


The Visitation

by krikkiter68



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Explicit Snuggling, Fluff and Crack, Implied Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Sexual References, Spooky old house, Supernatural References, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkiter68/pseuds/krikkiter68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julius has invited Malcolm, Jamie and Ollie to his lovely, haunted* country home.   </p><p>* Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘Ach, ye’re talkin’ utter pish, ye wanker!’ Jamie spluttered, through a mouthful of very expensive whisky. He plonked his feet on the chair in front of him, and glared at Julius. ‘There’s nae such thing as fuckin’ ghosts!’

‘I swear to you, it’s all there, in the auspices of local legend, James,’ Julius said, politely. ‘This house is rumoured to be haunted.’

‘Oh, aye?’ Malcolm murmured. ‘Ever seen ‘em yerself?’ 

Julius paused. The room was dark, following a power cut, and Malcolm studied his face, half-hidden in shadow and half-lit by the orange glow from the impressive marble fireplace. 

‘I’ve never seen them,’ he said. ‘But it’s a jolly interesting story. There are supposed to be three ghosts, representing three stages of the Age of Man. Are you alright, Oliver?’

Ollie, who had been staring out of one of the vast leaded windows watching the swirling snowflakes, turned round with a start.

‘Sorry, Julius, I was miles away.’

‘He probably wants tae go out and build a fuckin’ snowman,’ Jamie said.

‘Oh, fuck off, Jamie!’ Ollie snapped. Jamie looked like he wanted to punch him.

‘Do ye fuckin’ mind, both of ya? I was listenin’ to the story!’ Malcolm said.

‘Thank you, Malcolm. Anyway, as I was saying, the first ghost resembles a tall, willowy young man, with wild black curls and red, Cupid’s-bow lips, who haunts the cellar. The second is an elegant middle-aged man with the hungry, burning eyes of a wolf, who stalks the corridors. And the third is an older man of shabby appearance, and sad, dignified eyes like a bloodhound’s, who stands outside in the cold night air and gazes in mournfully through the windows.’

Julius paused, and smiled at the three of them, putting his tumbler of expensive whisky onto the side table next to his armchair.

‘Who knows, gentlemen? Perhaps one of us will receive a visitation, this dark night. In the meantime, do help yourselves to anything you want. I’ve asked Ellen to light the fires in your rooms, so you’ll keep warm and cosy, I promise.’

 

Much later, Ollie lay in his comfortable guest bed, staring up at the high ceiling. The embers of the fire were dying in the grate. He sighed: he always found it difficult to sleep in strange beds, and he wasn’t used to the countryside. After years of living in London, it was all far too dark and quiet at night, and the faintest noise unnerved him. A tiny scratching noise against the blue flock wallpaper made him jump. Christ, he thought, I hope that’s not a massive fucking spider.

He swung his long legs out of bed and walked over to the free-standing wardrobe, opened the door and found a long, white night-shirt. He slipped it on, then found some matches in a drawer, and a candle, which he managed to light on his third attempt. Cautiously opening the door, he padded down the corridors then crept down the dark, shadowy stairs, then round the corner again until he reached the locked cellar door. He opened it, and descended the cold concrete steps until he came face to face with the wine racks. He smiled to see a corkscrew on the side of the rack: perfect, he thought. I’ll have some wine, that’ll help me sleep.

Ollie uncorked an expensive-looking, dusty bottle and took a few swigs of red wine, closing his eyes in pleasure. God, that’s good stuff, he thought. I could get used to this…

Jamie crept down the stairs, his heart pounding. Sure I heard a fuckin’ noise down here, he thought. He looked around in the darkness for something he could use as a blunt instrument in the event of a violent intruder, but he couldn’t see anything. Then he noticed that the door to the cellar was open. He cursed under his breath, and crept closer.

Pushing it open, he detected a faint light, then his heart seemed to stop, and then start racing as he glimpsed a tall, deathly pale, curly haired figure in a long white robe, wiping its blood-red mouth with the back of one of its hands. Oh, fuckin’ shite, he thought, it’s one of those fuckin’ ghosts - Baldyfucker was right, fer once!

Ollie started as he heard the sound of feet scurrying up the main stairs, then shook his head. I must be hearing things, he thought. Might as well have some more wine.

Julius sighed contentedly as he turned over in bed, then his eyes flicked open as he heard a quiet, panicked knock on the door.

‘Who is it?’ he called out.

‘Jamie! Please can I come in?’

Goodness me, thought Julius. He’s actually being polite. It must be quite serious.

‘Of course you can, James.’

Jamie walked in, softly closing the door, and stood there in front of Julius in his blue and white striped pyjamas, hugging himself and shaking.

‘Good Lord, James,’ Julius said, concerned, ‘what on earth’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’

‘Aye,’ Jamie said, in a small whimper, ‘I fuckin’ have seen a ghost. The skinny fucker in the cellar, he looked like a fuckin’ stretched vampire…’

‘Oh, Jamie,’ Julius said. ‘That’s only a story. I’m sure it’s not true. Just a trick of the light, I’m sure. This house can take a bit of getting used to, I know.’

‘Julius?’

‘Yes, Jamie?’ Julius said, gently.

‘Can I…can I get in wi’ ye?’

‘Of course you can, James.’

Jamie crawled in next to him, immediately embracing him and hiding his face in the crook of his shoulder. God, Julius thought, I’ve never seen him look so scared. I didn’t actually think it was possible.

Very cautiously, he reached up and started to stroke Jamie’s gorgeous black curls.


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm was drowsing gently, bathed in the gentle firelight in his spare room, when he suddenly woke, his heart leaping. He groped around in the near-darkness and swore as he tried and failed to turn the bedside light on.

He scowled up at the ceiling. Gotta check my Blackberry, he thought. Just make sure there isn’t some fuckin’ hurricane of piss I’ve gotta try and clear up tomorrow. He felt around the bedside table, and realised with something close to panic that it wasn’t there. Jesus fuck, he thought, where the fuck did I leave the fuckin’ thing? 

There was enough light in the room for Malcolm to locate a huge, handsome oak wardrobe. He opened it, and drew out a long, black silk dressing gown. He put it on, and smirked at his faint reflection in the ornate, full-length mirror. Oh, he thought, that’s very fuckin’ Julius, that is. I must remember to tease the posh fucker about it at some point. He reached into one of the pockets, and pulled out an elegantly carved cigarette lighter, clicking it until the flame danced in front of him. Perfect, he thought. Just enough light to see by. I’ll think about this when he tries to offer me a fuckin’ cigar tomorrow…

He quietly turned the doorknob and stepped out into the corridor, holding the lighter flame in front of his eyes. Christ, all these fuckin’ doors, he thought. Think I might’ve left it in one of the five hundred bathrooms he’s got…

Ollie swayed back up the main stairs, the candle stuttering in his grip and warm wax stinging his fingers as he set about the task of finding his own room again. Concentrate, he thought, as he rounded one corner and gazed into the dim blue distance of the corridor, I can do this…I think…

He kept walking, and sighed with annoyance when he came to a dead end. Yeah, it’s all very stylish, but it all looks the same, he thought. How the bloody hell do you tell which door is which?

Looking around in the faint light, he could see long portraits of Julius’ many stern, aristocratic ancestors on the walls. They all seemed to be glaring into his soul, and thoroughly disapproving of what they saw there. He gulped, nervously. It seemed to be getting very dark and airless in the corridor.

Ollie walked back the way he had come, his long, bare feet scuffing on the soft runner carpet. He turned the corner.

A sudden breeze blew out the candle flame. At the other end of the corridor ahead of him, Ollie could see a tall, gaunt black-clad figure. The face was in shadow, but he could make out a pair of huge, pale eyes in a sinister, cavernous face, lit up from below. Eyes that burnt into his, as if in the process of hypnotising him, coming closer and closer…

Ollie clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his scream, and dashed back the way he had come.

 

‘Wow’, Jamie said, ‘is that right? That massive fuckin’ boulder slides across the ground at night and drinks from the stream?’

‘That’s absolutely right, James,’ Julius said, hugging him tighter. He had no idea whether it was true or not, of course, but he’d decided he loved impressing James. Who would have known the young man could be so sweet? And he looked so lovely in the faint light of the fire.

The door creaked open, and Julius turned his head to see a pale, desperately worried face peering round the door.

‘Who’s that?’ Jamie whimpered, hugging Julius tighter.

‘Don’t worry,’ Julius murmured, ‘it’s only Oliver. Are you alright, Oliver?’

‘Julius. Thank God you’re here,’ Ollie whispered. ‘I…I think you were right. I think I’ve seen one of those ghosts…’ he said, his voice tailing off into a small wail.

‘Oh dear,’ Julius said. ‘I was only telling you those stories to entertain you all. I fear I might have done something wrong…’

Jamie raised his head, and his eyebrows shot up.

‘What the fuck are ye wearin’ Ollie? Ye look fuckin’ ridiculous!’

Ollie looked down at himself and laughed, sheepishly. The nightshirt was far too long, even for someone of his height – it would have swamped Ben Swain, for God’s sake. He’d damn nearly tripped over it when fleeing the sinister figure in the corridor.

‘Yeah, what’s with the length, Julius? Did you have an ancestor who owned seven-league boots or something?’ 

Julius laughed.

‘Very droll, Oliver. Would you…I mean, you must be ever so cold, without the heating. Would you like to get into bed with us?’

Ollie considered the freezing cold soles of his feet, and decided that would be a good idea. He stripped off the nightshirt and clambered into bed. Moments later, he was resting his head on Julius’s surprisingly comfortable shoulder, listening to Julius murmuring about St Francis of Assisi and Brother Wolf in his soothing tones, as Jamie nestled his face into the crook of Julius’s neck.

 

Malcolm frowned in the darkness of the corridor. He could have sworn he had seen a flash of a white robe in the corridor. Can’t be a ghost, he decided. He knew Julius could spin a fantastic yarn, but that stuff was all pish and bullshit as far as he was concerned.

He crept quietly down the main stairs, still hunting for his Blackberry, and his skin prickled at something. He could see a faint light coming from somewhere. His heart started hammering, as he stepped into the main sitting room. A pair of lights shone in the distance, and as he stood and stared, they came closer and closer…


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm fearfully clutched the back of a nearby ornate sofa as the lights grew bigger. Then he blinked as they suddenly disappeared. His pounding heartbeat calmed slightly: thank fuck for that, he thought. I was probably just imagining it. Been overdoin’ it lately, what with those twats at DoSAC fuckin’ up left, right and centre.

He cautiously approached the window. He could see nothing outside except darkness and heavy, swirling snow, and he rested his head against the cold leading, his breath crystallising on the glass. And then, a slight noise made him look up.

There was a face at the window! Just as Julius had described – an older man, shabbily dressed (complete with overcoat, scarf and woolly hat), with the sad, dignified eyes of a bloodhound… 

 

Upstairs, Ollie started, breaking off from leaving butterfly kisses on Julius’ neck. 

‘Holy shit!’ he cried. ‘Did you hear that?’

Julius placed one final kiss on Jamie’s luscious lips and turned to face Ollie.

‘Hear what, dear Oliver?’

‘That awful sort of eldritch screech from downstairs? Is it the ghost?’

Julius thought for a moment.

‘I’m not much of an expert on ghosts, Oliver,’ he said, calmly. ‘But traditionally, ghosts aren’t recorded as using that sort of language.’

 

The figure standing in the snow outside the house sighed, and knocked on the window.

‘Malcolm!’ he shouted. ‘It’s me, you daft bastard! Come back! Oh, dear…’

 

Later, Julius sighed with contentment, as he embraced Malcolm, stroked his hair and soothed his shaking form until he calmed. It felt like a lovely dream to him, except that it was all true. He really couldn’t believe his luck. Having just one of the lovely gentlemen in his bed had been a long-term goal of his, but all three…!

The phone on his bedside table rang.

‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ he murmured, extending an arm through the tangle of firm, warm limbs and flanks to pick up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Oh, hello Sir, it’s Ellen. I hope I didn’t wake you?’

‘Oh no, my dear,’ Julius said, grinning. ‘I was very much awake, thank you.’

‘Good, Sir. Just to let you know, Mr Cullen and Ms Murdoch have arrived, safe and sound. They had a dreadful journey, the M8 was gridlocked in both directions. I’ve shown them straight up to their room. It should be nice and cosy for them.’

‘Oh, that’s excellent news. Thank you very much. Goodnight, Ellen.’

‘Goodnight, Sir. Sweet dreams.’

‘Oh, I think they will be. Goodnight, my dear.’

Julius softly replaced the receiver, and closed his eyes as the three of them took turns kissing him. It was good news, indeed. He was very fond of Glenn – not in the same way that he liked the gorgeous younger men who were currently caressing him, but he was such a good-natured, considerate fellow. He was very glad that Glenn had finally got together with that sweet lady, Robyn. It had certainly taken them long enough, and they seemed so happy together.

It was possible, of course, it had been a little bit naughty of him not to mention they were coming up for the weekend, too. Oh well, he thought. Only God can really judge me for this.

And then his bedmates' kisses started descending his naked torso, and he lay back and sighed, his thoughts turning to rather more carnal matters. 

Oh yes, he thought. The new year’s certainly getting off to a damn good start.

 

THE END


End file.
